


Lightning Strikes and the World Implodes

by RabidRambler



Series: The Story of Us [1]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, no canon characters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-09
Updated: 2014-06-08
Packaged: 2018-01-24 02:03:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 11,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1587587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RabidRambler/pseuds/RabidRambler
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which an original seatroll goes swiming at the worst of times and ends up meeting a whole cast of  strange characters</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Gaiius ==> Enter

       It's been a long time since you've done this; so long, in fact, that you had forgotten how much you liked it. You wonder for a moment why you ever stopped doing this, and you fail to produce a reason. You ponder for a moment why you have never invited your friends to come along with you. Relishing the feeling, you decide this is an activity best done in solitarity. You take a deep breath and fill your lungs with  rich, saline heavy air and stare down at the roiling sea beneath you. Steeling your nerves, you pitch forward and fall, fast, pressing your arms to your sides in order to optimize aerodynamics: the faster you fall, the deeper you'll go, and it's depth that you're aiming for. At the last second you throw your arms out in front of you to create a streamlined shape, fingertips breaking the cresting wave and thrusting you down into the icey depths. A trail of bubbles erupts from your nostrils and escapes frantically to the freedom of the surface as you continue to ride your momentum deeper and deeper. A large fish has stopped along his journey to watch you descend, his eyes bugging and his mouth agape. As your progress fizzles out and you assume a more comfortable vertical position, you glance at your arms and legs, admiring in the dusky water your biophosphorescent freckles glowing various shades of fushia. Your gills flare taking big gulps of the ocean, and you sigh. Flying like that is always a rush, and it's been a long time since you've done it. Fishdad had thrown a fit the last time he caught you doing it, which could have been seen as mildly hypocritical if it hadn't been a raging hurricane at the time. Your arguement at the time had been that the winds during a rough storm gave the best lift, but he grounded you anyway. You were only seven at the time, so you suppose it wasn't completely unfair. He had just been trying to keep you safe, afterall, and you can't wish him ill over that. But now you're back at it, and as the next rumble of thunder pealed across the sky you smirk and shoot to the surface, spreading your fins at your break the barrier and rocket into the cocophony of the raging typhoon. You get a good twenty feet into the air before you arch back towards the torrent of waves. As you're about to dive again, the unthinkable happens. A bolt of lightning licks from the sky and gives you a million volt kiss of death. The shock causes you to loose your form and hit the water with a painful smack, your entire body alight with a horrible buzzing sensation. You feel like you've been blanched, and you sit in the stewing, angry ocean trying to recover your senses. After a while of bobbing around like your earlier spectator, the buzzing subsides and you feel like you can move again. You take a moment to pinpoint your location on your water-proof palmhusk before taking off towards your hive. You would have to tell fishdad what you had been doing so he could take your to the local docterrorist to get checked out. If it turns out that bolt fried your innerds or affected your thinksponge, you could be in some serious trouble; but you'd rather be in big trouble with fishdad and get checked out than be in big trouble physically and not get checked out and die alone in the middle of nowheres.

 

       You're about five miles from your hive when something feels wrong. You're bloodpusher takes a couple of uncertain chugs and you stop short, taking short, shallow breaths, gills flaring in a panic. You take off as fast as you can go towards home, trying not to think about how much your chest hurts and how little oxygen you seem to be getting, and for a second you consider going to the surface and swimming like some over-zealous landdweller in hopes that your lungs would help you better than your gills but you know that getting to your hive from the surface was going to be more of a strain that it would be from your current depth. As your hive comes into sight you start to feel like you're drowning, and you crash onto your front steps and down into the cave, gasping and calling for your fishdad. He comes wriggling out of his hiding spot and flares a fin in front of you which you promptly fall onto with a weak gasp of "Help" before passing out. 


	2. Stranger ==> Be the hero

       You're standing on shore, watching the sea churn and the sky twist angrily. You figure with how thick the storm is you'll have plenty of time to get back to your hive from here. You pick up your suncape and fling it over your shoulder with a dramatic twirl. You make your way down the beach, humming along with the storm, kicking at the surf and thinking about whether or not you even want to go home. You're about to turn inlandward when you see something huge and white shoot from the roiling ocean and begin to skim it's way across the surface towards land. There's a person on the back of this fish, you notice, and he looks a little burnt. The fish goes all the way up to the sand and beaches itself there, gills flaring like mad. It looks at you with such a gaze that it almost instills pity in you, and you walk forward to inspect the kid drapped across it's back. It appears to be a tyrian male just like yourself, only several sweeps younger. He has strange fins that stretch from his wrists to his hips, and his breathing is labored. He is dying; you turn him over to look at his face, and something runs through you. You pick him up off of his lusus' back and craddle him in your arms, looking back at his fishdad.

       "I'll get him help," Is all you say before taking off towards the only person you know with medical training.


	3. Bookworm ==> Answer the door

       You're sitting in your hive, enjoying a cup of hot chocolate and a good novel when a knock echoes through your humble abode. Thunder rumbles as you snap your book closed and rise from your Lay-z-Troll recliner, muttering about moving to a more secluded place to avoid people as you make your way to the door. You open wide the trap and find your kismesis standing in full view of your oculars, bearing in his arms a crispy looking tyrian boy. "Hey, Nallah" he says, and lighting strikes ironically somewhere off in the distance, providing the prefect theatrically backlighting your dispicable guest could hope for. He doesn't ask to come in, merely steps forward into your warm, comfy hive and drips rainwater all over your hardwood floors, the bastard, searching frantically for who knows what before seeming to find it and charging off deeper into your hive; all the while you're standing dumbfounded in the doorway, holding the door open and letting in the raging elements. You finally come to your senses and slam the door shut with all the ferocity you can muster before stomping into your hive with the full intent of killing this impudent son of a bitch, highblood or not, until you slam into him as he comes rocketing down your stairs as if to come and get you. You emit a sound somewhere between an engrage screetch and a friendly chirp, and stand, undoubtedly flushing like a complete doofus before grabbing the man before you by the neck and dragging him down to your eye level. You feel his adam-apple move beneath his cold skin as he swallows nervously and he raises his hands in a gesture of non-violence.

       "Nallah, wait, please. Listen to what I have to say." His voice isn't quite strangled enough for your liking, so you tighten your grip and give only an icy gaze as a retort. At this he bares his fangs at you and pries your fingers from around his neck, grabbing hold of your wrists.

       "That boy in there," he growls, "has been struck by lightning. I need your help to find out what's wrong with him so that I can fix him."

       "And why should I help you, you sorry sack of hoofbeast meat?"

       "Because I abhor you and..." His face flushes fushia all the way to his fins, and he swallows. "And I think I'm pale for him..." The concept of a self absorbed asshole like Connor being pale for anybody is such a ridiculous that you choke on nothing and are incapacitated for a few moments with coughing and disbelief and he has to let go of your wrists to let you recover properly. When you've stopped coughing, you whirl on him and your fist connects with his cartilaginous nub, spraying fushia everywhere and knocking him flat on his ass.

       "I'll look at him, but I don't know if I'll be able to do anything for him, saltlick." You sneer. "Stay there." If he really was pale for the kid, he'd be right stealing glances over your shoulder as soon as he catches up. You find him on your examination table, gills flaring frantically, mouth hanging open like he's fast asleep. You start your physical examination, running your hands over his body in various spots, pressing in others, hoping to find some way to help him. You notice that a couple of his back teeth were either shattered or gone entirely, but he wasn't going to have to worry about that if he didn't continue to live. You grab your stethoscope and press it to his bare chest, listening intently to his hummingbeast heartbeat. You've come to find, after many examinations, that the higher the blood, the slower the heartbeat and the cooler the core temperature. Comparitively, he should have been dead, based on his heartbeat alone. You know exactly what you need to save him, but you need to get him to the clinic that you run just down the road. You turn around to find Connor slumping in the doorway."What's the prognosis, Doc?" he rumbles, picking crusty flecks of fushia from around his lips.

       "His heartbeat is too fast. At this rate he'll die in thirty minutes. I know how to fix him, but I need to get to the clinic to get what I need." You take off your stethoscope and stride from the room. "Grab him, I won't have time for a round trip." You nab your raincoat from the closet and grimace out the window as you throw it on. You hate the rain, almost as much as you hate Connor. You yank the hood up on the coat and set out from your hive, Connor carrying the unknown victim right behind you. The fifteen minute jaunt through the torrent is nothing if not torturous. The rain beats down on you and your companions as the wind howls and screams and cuts through your coat like a hot knife through butter; except this is cold, cold beyond your tolerance, beyond that of your tyrian kismesis, beyond that of a walk-in freezer. You imagine this cold can equate to that of the southern most  pole of the planet, and the amount of relief you feel when you finally swipe your security card at the clinic is embarassing. You tear off your coat in the foyer and rush to the closest operation room and rack the cabinets for the one thing you need: hydrochlorothiazide. This particular drug is normally used for patients with high blood pressure, but in high amounts can drop the heart rate dramatically, which was exactly what you were going for. You administer a large enough dose that it won't kill him, just enough to get the effect that you're looking for. You press your stethoscope to his chest and listen, waiting for the drug to take effect. There's a tense few seconds between the administration and the moment it kicks in. You hear the beat slow, and the kid seems to relax some. You breathe a sigh of relief and step back.

       "He's gonna be fine. I'm gonna get him to the recovery room." You unlock the wheels on the rolling bed and push him from the room, listening to the quiet clickclick of the wheels on the tile and the insistent smacksmacksmack of Connor's feet on the floor behind you. In the recovery room you heave the kid into the recuperacoon full of sterile slime mixed with various drugs to help with the healing process. You hook him up to the heart monitor and sync your PDA to alert you if anything goes wrong. You turn to your kismesis.

       "You're welcome to stay either in here or in the waiting block. I'm going to go write up the report in my office." As you're turning to leave, he snatches your wrist. You whirl and snarl at him, but it fizzles out when you see his expression. He looks tormented, for the first time ever, and you pity him just a little.

       "Thank you." He says and releases your wrist, turning back to the recooperacoon and sitting down next to it. As you leave the room you can only hope the boy feels for Connor as he does for him.


	4. Gaiius ==> Wake up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry these chapters are so short guys, I'm trying to make them longer :/

       You wake to find yourself in a recuperacoon, not your recuperacoon, by the feel of it, but sitting in slime nonetheless. The lights overhead flicker slightly every-so-often, and you find yourself wondering if just a little more sleep wouldn't hurt. Just as you're starting to sink down into the goop, you hear something slide across the side of the recooperacoon and thump heavily on the floor. You sit up and peer over the edge to find a seadweller lying facedown on the floor, rump sticking up in the air, drooling and snorring like some barkbeasts do when they sleep. He snirks and readjusts, turning his head so his face is towards you, and you nearly have a heart attack. You recognize this guy, you've had run-ins before. The man lying on the floor next to your 'coon is Connor Kallan, the reigning prince in the sector. The few times you have collided previously, Prince Kallan had treated you like a lowblood, like he was any better than you, when in reality you're both of the same caste.  You stare at him for a moment more before judging that he is presently harmless and that you may therefore relax and maybe get more sleep.As you're just dozing off, the doors to your room whir open and a tall woman with wickedly pointed horns strides in wearing a lab coat and a teal turtle neck sweater. A little white frog clings to one of her horns, possibly her lusus, as she makes her way over to your 'coon and picks up a chart, studying it with only mild concern. She looks up to check on you and catches you spying, which is met with a quickly faked saccarine smile.

       "Oh, looks like you're awake. How do you feel?" You open your mouth to speak, noting a stiffness in your jaw, the absence of a few teeth, and a mildly acidic taste.

       "I'm okay, I-I suppose. I-I've been b-better." You stomach sinks. Something's off. She notices it when you go quiet for a moment, and cocks her head to the side like an inquisitive flapbeast.

       "Everything okay?" You shake your head.

       "I d-didn't a-always s-stutter. I don't s-s-stutter." She sighs.

       "Probably just a side effect of the strike. You're lucky it's just a stutter, you could have died. Your heart nearly exploded. If it hadn't been for this slob-" she paused for a moment and nudges Kallan not quite as gently as she probably should have."-You would have died. I don't know where he found you, or how, I just know that he showed up at my hive with you in his arms all valiant like and asked me to help you. I'll let him tell you the rest. In the mean time I need to do another physical exam to make sure you really are gonna be okay." She glances at the heart monitor and hums to herself as she records the data. "Can you stand?" You brace yourself on the sides of the recooperacoon and stand, shakily, feeling unbearably weak and helpless as she puts her hands under your arms and lifts you from the recuperacoon with almost no effort on your part. She sets you on your feet for a moment without entirely letting go, testing to see if you actually could support yourself. Your knees buckle as soon as you were left to fend for yourself and she catches you before you hit the ground.

       "Alright, wheeled device it is then." She murmurs and carries you over to a wheeled device and plops you down a little roughly and pushes you from the room. As she wheels you down the hall you identify your surroundings as a small clinic, not a full fledged med bay. The area is devoid of activity, the only sounds are yours and hers."Where am I?" You ponder aloud, hoping for an answer more than "the hallway" and thankful that you didn't stutter.

       "The hallway." It takes every fiber in your being not to dish out some sick sarcasm for that and so you sit in silence for the rest of your short ride to the examination room. She hefts you up onto a steel table, which is ironically warm against your cold skin, and lays you down, pressing her stethoscope, which is also warm, to your chest.

       "Breathe in and hold it." You comply, feeling your bloodpusher throb steadily in your throat. "Breathe out." The air rushes from your aerating sponges and you catch the scent of fish on your breath and feel your face heat.

       "It's okay. I've dealt with worse." She says, catching you off guard. She chuckles a little when she see you blush even further. "So...what's your name, kid?" You swallow and sift through the mounds of information your memory sponge has thankfully retained.

       "G-Gaiius. Gaiius Kiiara."

       "Where do you come from, Gaiius?"

       "The Mariana sector. My hive is about twenty miles from the shore. What sector am in?"

       "Still Mariana, about two miles inland. Connor must have found you on his way home...What?"

       "What what?"

       "You look simultaneously engraged and confused. What's on your mind?"

       "This...Connor...you keep talking about...he wouldn't happen to be Prince Connor Kallan, would he?"

       "He is, why?"

       "Because Prince Kallan doesn't give a rat's ass about me or anybody else. He's a self absorbed prick with an ego the size of a whale and he wouldn't save me if I was the last person on Alternia just to have the entire godamned planted to himself. He probably just did it to impress you or somefin stupid like that. And if that egotistically asshole ever shows his face in front of me again I will personally remove it for him." Her hand comes out of nowhere and strikes you hard across the face, leaving stars spinning in your eyes and a ringing in your ears. You have every right to cull her right then and there, but all you can do is stand in shock. 

       "First of all, you ungrateful punk, that asshole is my kismesis, and despite the fact that all those things are true, he saved your life, and you have no right to talk about him that way, you understand me? I made sure your bloodpusher didn't explode inside your chest, so if you plan maligning him again, you should tell me now so I can kill you before I have to face that fact that you were a sorry waste of resources." Her face has turned bright teal and she's standing up halfway off of her stool, so that she's towering over you with her fangs bared right up next to your face. You suddenly feel like an absolute shitfaced asshole, worse than Connor even, and you sit back down on the examination table.

       "I-I'm s-sorry m-m-ma'am." Aaaaand the stutter was back. She gives you a look, like you said something outlandish, and she sits as well.

       "I'm not going to say it's okay, because it's not, but I forgive you. Just don't do it again, okay?" You nod and feel a little weepy for no appearant reason, and so, having nothing else to do, you lie back down on the table and stare up at the ceiling. A few moments pass in silence as she records your information on your chart and wheels over to a desk with a computer to enter the information there as well. 

       "How old are you?" She asks.

       "Eight." 

       "Do you have a moirail or matesprit I could contact?"

       "Yeah, uh, she, uh, he, uh, their name is Xacori. Xacori Friosi." She gives you a funny look. "What?"

       "Male or female? Matesprit or moirail?"

       "Yes; moirail."

       "Yes?"

       "She's genderfluid."

       "I see...okay then...Lemme get you back to your room."

       "Oh, no, I can walk now, I think. I can make it back on my own."

       "Um...okay, go ahead then." She turns around and types the name into the computer, pulling up his profile, and picks up the phone, dialing the numbers in quickly. You turn to go and pass through the doors just as Xac picked up. 


	5. Nallah ==> Intervene

       "Hello?"

       "Hi, this is Doctor Nallah Morisi, I'm calling to speak to Xacori Friosi, is she there?"

       "This is she..."

       "I-I'm calling about your moirail--"

       "Oh my god, is he okay? Is Gaiius okay?"

       "Uh, yeah, he is now, but he was struck by lightning last night and is currently residing in my clinic, and he needs to have someone sign off on his release forms. Do you have a way you can get here?"

       "I...uh...yeah. Where are you located?" You rattle off your address, and listen in to the sound of a pen scratching across paper.

       "Okay, I'll be there as soon as I can." She hangs up the phone without so much as a good bye or a thank you. You stare at the phone for a moment a tad miffed and hang up. As you turn back to your computer to begin typing your report, you hear a scream and shoot from your chair, rocketing down the hall to Gaiius' room. You find Connor sitting on the floor, holding Gaiius in his lap, Connor's arm around Gaiius so that he's restricted. Connor is rocking back and forth, shushing the writhing ball of flesh and fins that was Gaiius, who is screaming an endless string of profanities in mulitple languages. You stand in the doorway and stare for a moment, wondering how long it'll take Gaiius to tear into Connor.

       "Connor..."

       "Yeeas?"

       "I would let him go if I were you..."

       "Why?"

       "Because he's going to kill you."

       "No he's not."

       "YES I AM YOU DIMWITTED FUCKNUT. IF YOU DON'T RELEASE ME THIS INSTANT I AM GOING TO TEAR YOUR ARMS FROM YOUR BODY AND SHOVE THEM UP YOUR NOOK IF YOU DON'T LET ME GO I SWEAR TO GOD!!"

       "Yeah, he is. Let him go, Connor." Connor relents and releases Gaiius, who flies from Connor's arms and stands in the corner, harpoon spear pointed outward at Connor.

       "What the FUCK is your PROBLEM?"

       "Problem? I don't have a problem."

       "The why the fuck did you attack me?"

       "Attack you? If I had attacked you, you would be dead by now."

       "Then what the fuck was that just now?"

       "You came in looking a bit distraught, and I was merely doing my duties as your moirail to --"

       "Woah, woahwoahwoah. Wait a minute. Wait just a moment here. You are not my moirail. My moirail's name is Xac. She's a navyblood. You are not my moirail, nor will you ever be."

       "But...I saved your life..."

       "Yes, you did, and I appreciate that, but that doesn't make you my moirail."

       "Why not?"

       "Because I ALREADY HAVE ONE, you DENSE MOTHERFUCKER." Your kismesis seems to get it then, because he gets this look on his face like his whole world is crumbling before him. You relish this look, and for a moment feel mildly jealous that this complete stranger could put him through more pain than you ever could. You can't help but step forward and intervene. You grab Connor by a handful of his hair and pull his head back so he's looking you dead in the eye. He bares his fangs at you and you click your tongue.

       "Aw, poor Connor, thwarted once again in his everlasting search for a palemate. I bet you never find one, you sorry sac of hoofbeastshit, no. You're just too damn selfish for that. My gods, you didn't even ask the kid this time. When are you gonna give up, huh? When are you gonna just let it go?" He closes his eyes and whimpers a little, and you snarl, releasing his hair. You step back with your left foot, and slam your right into his chest, causing him to fly back and crash into the wall. An ugly pink bruise rose on his chest in the shape of your bootprint, but he just lays there. You throw a sneer in his direction and turn with a whirl of your labcoat. 

       "It makes me sick to see how worthless you're becoming. Come with me, Gaiius, there's a block you can rest in down the hall." You don't check to see if Gaiius is following you, but you can hear his feet tapping quietly behind you. There are no words, only the quiet burning anger that you both share at different levels for the same despicable person. You unlock the doors to the extra room and leave Gaiius to take care of himself. As you walk down the hall towards your office, you wonder why Connor doesn't just quit, or at least go about it the right way rather than abducting some kid who's already quadranted. You sigh and feel the exasperation slough off as you enter your office. You go through the motions of filling out and filing the necessary paper work, humming to yourself as you go because you're not allowed to have a radio or play music. You hear the front door open just as you're finishing up, but it's just your secretary. She usually comes in around mid-day under cover of suncloak; she smiles and greets you when she gets herself situated. Just a few minutes later you're in the midst of reading one of the many novels you keep in your office when you hear your secretary greet somebody.

      "Good day, how can I help you?"

      "Hi, I'm here to pick up my moirail, Gaiius? Someone called and told me he was here." There's a pause, and you take that moment to launch yourself from your chair and appear by the desk.

      "Good morning, you must be Xacori. My name is Doctor Morisi, I took care of Gaiius." You extend your hand and she takes it, a little startled by your sudden entrance. "I can take you to him; right this way." You turn and lead her down the hall, feeling her oculars on your back the whole way. "So..." You say, trying to sound relaxed and not the least bit paranoid that she's about to jump you. "How long have you known Gaiius?"

      "Eight sweeps."

      "Oh, how pleasant. I assume that you two are happy, considering you came to get him."

      "It's none of your business if we're happy or not." There's an edge to her voice and you decided that's the end of that conversation.

      "My apoligies." You continue in silence for the rest of the trip, which isn't long. You enter the block to find Gaiius fast asleep in the 'coon; she rushes past you and wakes him gently, her hand on his face with the tenderest of touches, and it almost hurts to watch the amount of affection that passes between them in the resulting look. He reaches up out of the slime and wraps his arms around her neck, hugging her close to him, and she doesn't even care that she's getting covered in sopor. You clear your throat awkwardly and turn to leave.

      "I'll give you two a minute. Just check out when you're ready." You meander down the hall with no purpose to your step. Connor comes out of Gaiius' other block up ahead of you and waits for you to get to where he is.

      "Are you okay now?"

      "No. But I'll live, I suppose." You scoff and roll your eyes.  _Hopeless_. You continue into the foyer and stand around awkwardly. There's nothing to say, this is all just a routine thing for you two. He sighs after a moment and runs his hand through his hair.

      "I'm gonna split, Nallah. No reason I need to stick around here." You shrug and he turns towards the door, producing a suncape from his sylladex. He doesn't turn back to wave, he just sticks his arm in the air like a doofus, but you aren't looking, you just know because that's what he does. You see Xacori and Gaiius coming down the hall, clinging to each other like they would fall to pieces if seperated, and it's sickeningly cute. Gaiius is smiling, for the first time since you've met him, and you realize how attractive it makes him. When they get up to you he thanks you for what you did and apologizes for the way he treated Connor. Xacori beams and thanks you as well. You can't imagine seperating these two, or what would happen if something were to happen to one of them. 

       You make sure they get signed out okay and see them off, watching through the heavily tinted windows to make sure they get out okay. Gaiius seems to be walking okay, so you figure he'll be fine. You grab your coat from your office, lock up, and greet your secretary good bye before heading out the door yourself. You might be the head doctor, but you're not the only doctor, and you deserve to go home and get some rest. When you get back to your hive, you shuck off your coat like it's a second skin and let it fall to the floor. You're exhausted, but for some reason, as you're walking in to your respite block, you can't help but stare out the window and down the cliff to the ocean, where you know you're kismesis is out there, somewhere, probably crying like the overdramatic dork he was. For some reason that thought stung you a little more than it probably should have, but you shrug it off and move on, stripping off your clothes and slipping into the recuperacoon without a second thought on the matter.

        When you wake it's night again, but something seems off, like the world is all shiny and surreal. It's still your hive, with your 'coon and your books and your closet and your subjugglator lounging in the corner like it's nobody's business...wait a second...You lean forward a little, stirring  up little rainbows in the air. Your curtains are drawn, but thin streaks of golden light were streaming through where there were cracks. The troll in the corner is just sitting there, not looking at you, really, just kinda sitting and looking around. You can't really pin down what she's sitting on, but whatever it is, she seems fairly comfortable. You shift back and sink down as far into the slime as possible without submerging your cartilage nub, and watch her, hoping that she doesn't notice you. You close your eyes, the effects of the sopor seeping into your exhausted mind, but she stirs.

         "I wouldn't do that if I was you." Your eyes fly open and you choke on a scream to find her standing right up next to your recuperacoon. Her face is painted white with two large, gray diamonds that stretch the length of her face and a smaller diamond in the center of her forehead. Her mouth splits her face into a terrifying grin, and you suddenly feel extremely violated, remembering that you're completely naked before this stranger. You bare your fangs at her nonetheless, and she aparantly finds that funny. "Ah, dear, you're a real trip, you know that? That hatestud of yours is real lucky, too, to get a piece of that." As she says this she strokes your cheek and on "that" she gives it a rough pap. You snarl at her and she laughs again."Why are you here? What are you doing in my hive?" 

          "Hive? No, deary, I'm not in your hive, I'm in your head."

          "Either way. The fuck are you doing?"

          "I've come to deliver a message. My employer wants to enlist your help. He knows you're skilled in medical practices, and he's about to engage in some...risky work, and he would feel safer if he had a docterrorist by his side, just in case."

       "Well you can tell your employer to stuff it. I run a business, I can't just up and leave to go work for someone who won't even come and see me in person." She looks at you like she's hatching a plan. 

       "If....I were to get my employer to go and see you, would you up and motherfuckin' considerit?" You narrow your eyes at her, sinking down into the sopor again, probably looking like an alligator or something.

       "Well?" You do something really wigglerish then and, instead of answering, you blow bubbles in the sopor, glaring at her. At that she reaches into the recuperacoon and grabs you by the neck, dragging you most of the way out of the recuperacoon and bringing your face to her level.

       "Listen here, lowblood." She snarls in your face. This might be a dream, but she was very real, and it takes everything you have not to whimper and beg for her to let you go because the position you're in is painful. "My employer is going to come to you within three night's time. He will ask you to help him and you will do as he asks. We wouldn't want anything to happen to that pretty face of yours, so it'll be in your best MOTHERFUCKIN INTEREST to do as he says. You understand?" When you don't answer, she shakes you a little. "DO YOU MOTHERFUCKING UNDERSTAND ME?"

       "YES, yes, I understand." She drops you and you hear a sick crack when your wrists catch the weight of your body. You cough and try to catch you breath as she looks down at you.

       " _Pathetic_." She mutter and walks toward your wall and disappears without a trace. You wake up on the floor where she dropped you, curled up into a fetal position, bruised, and even bleeding in some places where she had dragged you across the lip of the recuperacoon. Your right wrist is swollen and discolored with splotches of deep teal and almost cerulean in some places, almost jade or even olive in others. The break is bad, really bad, you can feel it, it stings like you're being attacked by ripperwasps, a feeling you thought you'd never have to relive. You sit up, supporting yourself on your good wrist, and look around, checking for any other unwanted guests. You make your way to your ablution block and check yourself in the reflector, noting the fact that you feel worse than you look, which is a relief because it means you can still go to work and have your injuries pass as a rough night on the spade. You get in the ablution trap and wash the sopor from your aching carcass. When you're done, you dry off and bind your broken wrist, wondering what you're going to tell Connor if he asks what happened. You'll probably just tell him the truth before he jumps to conclusions. You make your way downstairs and throw a couple of slices of grub loaf into the dual-slotted bread-heating appliance. You hit the switch on the hyperpress and nab your favorite mug from the hanging storage boxes. The hyperpress and the bread-heating appliance finish at the same time, and your nutrition block fills with wonderful smells. You ignor the coffee for a moment to grab the grub loaf from the toaster in order to slather it with fruit flavored grub paste. When you turn back around, Connor is leaning against your counter, sipping _your_ freshly brewed cup of joe. He doesn't look at you, just huddles as close to your mug as he possibly can. You stand there, completely dumbfounded, partly because he, who never wears shoes and has impossibly loud footsteps, managed to sneek up on you and steal your coffee you had waited so long for; and partly because mister "I'm too sexy for my shirt" was wearing a very attractive turtleneck sweater made of black ribbed fabric which hugs his body like a glove. After a few sips he slants his eyes in your direction, eyeing the few bruises that you couldn't cover with your selected turtleneck. He looks away, takes another sip, then sets the cup on the counter behind him and pulls the neck of his sweater down to reveal sickly fushia bruises and an array of lacerations from his shoulder to his collarbones. He turns his hands over and shows you his palms in silence, which are covered in abrasions. He looks you in the eyes, all of his emotions pouring out before you. Now that he's facing you, you see that his visitor was a lot less gentle than yours had been, and you can only hope that he had earned that shiner by swinging first. In a sudden bout of sickly simpathy, you fold your arms around him and hold him close to you; he curls up against you like a soggy kitten. The both of you shuffle into your recreation block, sinking down onto your down-filled sit row. You curl up around each other and you run your hands through his hair and down the back of his neck. An involuntary purr kicks up in the both of you, but for some unfathomable reason, neither of you mind. Maybe it was because both of you had suffered trauma at the hands of someone other than each other. Maybe it was because your kismesitude had been falling to pieces in light of your latent pale feelings for each other. You just sit ther for a long while, just purring and holding each other and trying not to feel like absolute shit. After a while, he sighs and leans back, still entwined with you in various places; you can see words forming on his scarred up lips.

       "Who visited you?"

       "A clown, female, short spiky horns. Diamonds on her face, tattooed arms. You?"

       "A navy, also female. Sawed off horns, really fucking fast. She told me that if I didn't abdicate my position that her employer would kill you."

       "You didn't..."

       "No, sorry. I aggrieved and she absconded after only a short scrap. Hell of a specibus, though. Throwing stars and knives. Can't imagine what she calls that one--"

       "Projectiletype."

       "Huh? Oh, yeah, probably." He pauses for a moment and rings his hands. "What did yours say to you?"

       "She said her employer would be contacting me within three nights time and that I needed to do whatever he wanted me to. Did yours come to you in a dream?"

       "What? No. Did yours?"

       "Yeah, it was freaky. I think it was just her working the chucklevoodoos." He sighs again and runs a hand through his hair, rubbing the tip of one of his four horns in contemplation and worry."So what do we do?"

       "The only option is for me to go about my normal day. If we're gonna aprehend this guy, I need to be around when he comes to consult me." He shakes his head."You might be my kismesis, but both you and I know that there's more to us than that. I can't risk you, and they'll come for you if I don't comply, and even if I do, there's no guarantee that they won't kill you if you refuse to help them." You nod.

       "I can't just not go to work, they need me there, and they know where my hive is anyway."

       "I'm getting you a bodyguard."

       "What?"

       "You have to go to work, so I'm getting you a bodyguard. Shouldn't be hard to find." You sigh; it seems this is the only option. "Okay." You relent, and he smiles, brushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear. You catch his hand, giving it a quick, rough nip. It weeps fushia and he chuckles darkly, running a claw down your face with a tad of pressure. You feel blood run down your face, and you release his hand in order to wipe away the blood before it gets on your sweater. His grin as turned cynical and more like what you're used to. "What a fucked up situation we find ourselves in." He remarks, and you can't help but laugh, because it's just so damn true. It's so true that fucked up almost doesn't cover it, but, hell, what can you do? People, unless properly trained, are slaves to their own emotions, and there's nothing you and he can do about what's happening between you. You can only wait and hope that the issue resolves itself on it's own before things become even more muddled. 


	6. Connor ==> Handle the situation

       You leave your kismesis' hive and go down the beach at the bottom of the cliff. She had picked the perfect spot for a hive, and it had been how you'd met. You had always enjoyed floating out on the waves, looking up and the long grass flowing in the wind, until one day you had come to shore to find a hive had sprung up during the day. It was a nice hive, not nearly as nice as yours, but nice on a midblood's standards. It was tall more than wide, with a lot of outdoor areas covered by fancy teal awnings. The fact that this ignorant little tealblood had just rolled up and built her hive in your area was enough to make you hate her; but then you saw her standing up there at the top of her hive, looking down over the edge. She was just standing there, balancing on one foot, staring off into the nothingness, until suddenly she just closes her eyes and shakes her head, puts her foot down, and walked away. You had waited and watched for her to come back out. She had, about twenty minutes later, screaming and yelling and absolutely furious, bearing a huge needle in her hands aimed at a crying lowblood. The lowblood had eventually left, but you found yourself taken by how beautiful the tealblood was when enraged. You decided then that you would have her for your spade, and, after much courting, she finally accepted you. Now you find yourself trying to untangle your mess of emotions so that you can erase the ones that you didn't want to feel. The only problem was...you didn't know what you wanted, and appearantly neither did she. The only thing you could do right now is focus on other problems, like how you and she were both in danger. Step one: hire a bodyguard for your kismesis. The mere thought was just backwards, but at the same not, not at all, really, because the thing about spades is that, while you might hate that person, you still love them, and there are times when you like to be around them, so having them suddenly not be there can be a big problem, especially so with you and Nallah. You manage to find a body guard living on the other side of the sector who would be willing to come and work for you. His profile didn't list his blood color, so you were a little nervous at first because if he was above teal, he may not be willing to protect Nallah, no matter the money, and you don't know how much more time you can spend trying to find protection. You ask the body guard to come to Nallah's hive and meet you, and he agrees and a few hours later there's a short, lanky cerulean standing in front of you. Nallah stands next to you, the both of you giving him a look over and not quite comprehending what you're seeing. The boy bows to you and introduces himself.

       "My Prince, my name is Marian Cortex. I look forward to serving as your protection." You and Nallah exchange a glance and look at the boy again. You clear your throat.

       "Uh, Marian, have you ever done this before?" He gives you a look which is halfway between confusion and injury.

      "Uh, I think what he meant to say was...what can you bring to your table?" Nallah interjects and you nod, you catch her rolling her eyes at you and smirking a little and you elbow her, causing her to snicker. You realize how unprofessional you both look right now, besides the fact that you both managed to match tonight. You direct your attention back to Marian who now looks entirely offended.

      "You, tealblood," He sneers,"Have no right to ask me what I can bring to the table. Maybe he hasn't told you, but slaves do not have a say in their master's affairs." You slide your hand around Nallah's shoulders before she can murder this kid. She takes a couple of deep breaths before replying with the frostiest calm.

     "I'll have you know, bulgelick, that Prince Kallan is hiring you to protect me, not him. I am not his slave, I am his kismesis, and if you ever speak to me that way again, I will personally, slowly, painfully, end you." Marian smirks.

       "Cute." He says to you, not her."How long did it take you to teach her that?" Before you can get the chance to smite this impudent spat standing before you he moves right back into business, although it's hard to concentrate on his words between Nallah's writhing and your own blinding rage.

       "I am available to you whenever you need me, and I charge by the hour, although I'm sure that's not going to be a problem for you. I assume you need me today? If not, I'll have to charge you the same hourly rate for our meeting today." You just cannot believe this kid. Acting like he has the right just demand payment from you, not to mention the way he was treating Nallah, who was only a caste below him.

       "Excuse us for a moment..." You steer Nallah away from Marian and into her hive for a moment. She gives a screech and picks up the nearest book, throwing it as hard as she could, only to spear it on the end of her needlekind on the opposite wall. Her entire face has gone a bright teal and she's pacing and clenching her fists. 

        "Nallah." She doesn't react. You can see a vein in her forehead pulsing, and for a moment you're afraid it's going to pop and cause more problems than need be."Nallah, if you don't calm down, you're going to shatter your teeth." You hazard a step forward and you put your hands on her shoulders very gently. She yanks on the thread that connects her needle to her arm and points it at your neck, and you feel your gills and fins flare in panic, which feels really strange with a shirt on. It probably looked really strange, too, but you don't worry about that, right now you just need to get her calm before she kills someone. 

       "He won't do, Kallan." She growls. "Okay, alright, I'll find someone else. Okay? I'll tell him to go, that we'll consider him but we'll continue to search. Okay? Easy girl, easy." She takes a few shakey breaths and lowers the suture.

      "Okay. Okay." She recaptalogues her strifekind and leans her head on your chest, just her head, her feet staying rooted on the ground where she was. You rub the back of her neck and it takes every part of you not to just pull her in and hold her until the sun comes up. Instead you back up a step without warning and laugh as she pitches forward and nearly faceplants. She gives you snarl and you just laugh some more and walk outside. Marian is standing with his ear pressed against the door, his eyebrows knit together in concentration. He's standing there, leaned over when you open the door like he doesn't even realize you're standing there. That is, until your fist connects with his cartiage nub and he goes flying back, spraying cerulean every which way. He lands on his ass, snarling in pain.

       "What the FUCK?!"

       "I could be asking you the same question." You retort calmly, cracking your knuckles. "And you'll be lucky if I don't let her deal with you." He spits and wipes his mouth. Suddenly, he disappears; he's just gone, his blood splatters the only evidence that he had ever been there. The next thing you know, Nallah jumps out in front of you, her fist flying out and connecting with nothing, which splatters blue all over your sweater, which you had bought literally off the back of a passing jadeblood, completely ruining it. Marian appears out of nowhere, somewhere off to your left. The thing about Nallah is that she has crazy strength, something that had come into play a lot during your personal affairs. It also comes in handy during combat, which is convenient when she doesn't have time to draw her specibus. 

        "How did you see me, bitch?" He snarls, a large, ugly bruise rising on his cheek.

       "What the fuck do you mean how did I see you? You were running right at us, how would I not see you?" She looks at you. "What the fuck were you doing? He was coming right at you, why didn't you react?" You shake your head and shrug.

        "I couldn't see him. He disappeared." She blinks a couple of times, and focuses on the assailant.

        "How did you do that, huh?"

      "Like I'm gonna fuckin' tell you." And then he's gone again, and Nallah bristles, drawing her needle. She whips around and throws it, connecting with your attacker, and spurting cerulean everywhere. He reapears and she retracts her strifekind before he can  take advantage of the connection. He clutches his shoulder and hisses at you both, trying to keep pressure on the gapping wound your kismesis had just inflicted.

        "How do you keep DOING THAT?" His face turns bright blue with rage and Nallah smirks.

       "I don't know what you think you're doing, but you can't beat me. Just abscond, already, before you get yourself killed." She hefts the needle up onto her shoulder, the tip dripping globs of blue blood behind her. The whole scene comes off as something out of a bad anime, and if it weren't for the immenant danger you were both in, you would probably be laughing your ass off. He takes a step forward and she twitches, causing him to flinch. With that he snarls and retreats, disappearing off into the distance. She smirks and wipes her weapon on the grass, looking up at you.

        "He's a psychic." She says. "He can mask his existance by targeting the part of your mind that registers his presence. Pretty nifty trick, too."

        "Then how did you see him?"

        "Good question...I don't know." She stands and tucks her suture safely away in her sylladex. She takes you by the wrist and leads you inside. She was right, partly. She wasn't the one who needed protection. Nevertheless, you got this feeling that Marian would be back for her. You silently wish that you could just take her down to your hive and keep her there for a while; but then your mind retracts and shudders at the idea of having her around all the glubbin' time and you surpress a legitimate shudder. 

 

  
        The following night you find another person. You make sure in your preliminary call that they are not hemoist, and alert them to only a couple of the more important details.  He agrees to meet you and Nallah in a more public place this time. Kitsun Rialto is more of what you'd expect in a body guard. He's tall, well built but not overly stacked, and watches you both with a keen eye. He smiles when he sees her, and, despite being a navyblood, gets down on one knee and bows to her like she was royalty. She was, by association to you, but only by association. He rises, the tips of his aurals tinted deep azure, and he intoduces himself.

        "My name is Kitsun Rialto. It will be a pleasure working with both of you." You can't see Nallah's face, but her aural shells have gone bright teal and she tugs on the neck of her sweater.

          "Likewise." You say and shake his hand. "Shall we go back to the hive? It will be more comfortable to discuss business there."

          "Of course." You lead him to a fake hive, one tha you rented off of a jadeblood for a couple of hours for the sake of security. It was big enough to pass for a tealblood hive, and you had the jade accents switched with teal ones for the time being. It was quite a farce, and you are almost beaming with pride over how well it came out. You lead the both of them in and close the door, watching Nallah scurry off to the nutrition block to prepare some refreshments in the simplest testimony of normalcy. You make yourself at home, slouching down onto the plush sit row; Kitsun settles down onto an adjacent sit row. Nallah comes back with a steaming kettle and three cups on a tray, setting the whole affair down on the table between you. Kitsun sits quietly while she pours three cups of tea then sits down with her cup. He takes a sip, then sets his cup down and take a deep breath. 

          "So," He says. "How much did you pay the jadeblood for their place?" Nallah laughs and remarks...

        "Jadeblood? There's no jade here, only teal." He chuckles."No, there's teal down _here_ , but the entire upper compartment smells like jade." He pauses and you exchange a glance with your kismesis, causing him to laugh. "I can smell colors. It's a special gift, and I can tell you what blood color a hemo anonymous troll is from up to fifty feet away." You can tell that he's trying to be gloat as he says this, that's he's just trying to tell you what he has to offer, but it still comes off as a little bragged anyway. Nallah slants her eyes at you and you lean forward, lacing your fingers together over your tea. 

          "How much do you want?"

          "Depends, how long are we talking?"

          "Don't know, really. Just until we get this sorted out." He sighs and leans back.

          "How does two thousand caegars a day sound to you? Fair?"

          "Fair enough, yes."

        "Then it's a deal. I'll watch your kismesis for as long as you need me to, so long as you continue to pay me." He pulls a contract out of his sylladex, along with a pen, which he hands you. You sign your name and your symbol, and pass the pen to Nallah, who puts her signature on the line for the witness. You take him to Nallah's hive where she's set up the spare respiteblock for him to stay in. You decide that he's trustworthy enough to leave alone with her, so you bid them farewell and depart for your hive, which you haven't seen for the better part of four nights now. You unlock the door to your hive, which is above ground on a tiny island. You have a rather large hive, it's a palace, basically, and it includes both airlocked blocks. and waterlocked blocks. The whole hive is underwater, save the entry block, wherein there are two doors: the right handed door leads to an air to water transition chamber, the other, on the left, leads to the air-only blocks. You decide that you don't want to get wet quite yet, so you take the door on the left and follow the stairs down to the vast common room. You didn't realize how big your hive was until you spent a few nights in something a lot smaller. You peel off your shirt and let it fall to the floor with a wet plop. There's no one else in your hive, so you remove the rest of your clothing, leaving them strewn across the white quartz tiles as you stride towards one of the spare respiteblocks and clamber into the residing recuperacoon. You have been sleeping on the plush, comfy sit row Nallah has in her hive, but you haven't been waking up rested. You can feel all of your muscles relax as you sink into the sopor, feeling it slide up into your gills a little, making you shudder. You fall into a deep sleep, and don't wake until the sun is sinking beneath the horizon.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is really short, sorry guys

        Somewhere, in a darkened hive, someone is listening. He is sitting in front of a large screen that displays two images. The first, on the left, is a topographical map marked with two brightly colored dots; the other a heat register image of three people sitting around and doing nothing in particular. He turns in his wheeled sit pillar to face another large screen buzzing with infofeeds: pesterlogs and news feeds and underground info-threads translated from coded from private trollian memoboards. Yet another screen displays an open chat window with words in teal and violet intermingling. The man turns back to the first screen and watches the heat register image as the subjects get up and move out from the hive and smiles as the dots on the topo map start to move. The pieces are falling into place. The only thing to do now is wait for the opportune moment and spring the trap. 


	8. Gaiius ==> Go Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two new characters introduced in this one. Last chapter of the first part of The Story of Us. Stay tuned for the second part. Sorry this took so long!! I also want to apologize for the lack of colors on the pesterlogs. I don't know how to do that yet, I am seeking counsel and will fix it as soon as possible. Find me on Tumblr at 2wonder.tumblr.com or wonderstruckphotographer.tumblr.com

It's been a week and a half since the accident. You have been staying with Xacori for the entirety of the time, and, even though she is your moirail and has said many times before that she wouldn't mind if you moved in, it is time for you to leave. You have to go back before fishdad assumes the worst and does something drastic, although it has been a while since you've had contact with him, and you wouldn't be surprised if that had already come to pass. The night before you leave Xacori has to go out and about for work, so you're left alone with nothing to do. You would pack your things, but you haven't anything to pack; and Kahzix, Xacori's mateprit, is also out working so he's not available for anything. You draw your tablet from your sylladex and log into trollian, hoping to find someone to talk to. You turn off the spy settings and scroll through your long list of people, most of whom are not online. Of the people who are online, you close your eyes and pick at random.

\-- pisceneFreedom [PF] started trolling herasGrin [HG] --

[PF]: Hey there harkas!

[HG]: why hello there

[HG]: it has been a long time since we have conversed

[PF]: Haha, yeah. How are you?

[HG]: I am fine thank you for asking

[HG]: I have been rather busy lately so I am a little worn out but I am fine

[HG]: How are you

[PF]: Ugh. II'm bored as shell and have nofiin to do. Corii's out and Kas iis out and you're the only one II could fiind to talk to.

[HG]: oh well I am pleased that you have chosen me to converse with

[HG]: it is always a pleasure speaking with you

[PF]: Yeah, same here. 

[HG]: So what was it you wished to converse about

[PF]: Oh, just anyfiin, reely

[HG]: would you mind if I told you about my work

[PF]: No, that would be niice actually

[HG]: well last night I pulled five teeth applied four sets of braces and did seven cleanings

[PF]: Wow. People need to brush more, jeez

[HG]: haha indeed

  
You had lied when you said you enjoy speaking to Harkas. He doesnt use punctuation for some infathomable reason other than he needed a quirk and decided to be lazy, and he finds the strangest things exciting. Harkas Kantax is old, not to mention super reserved, but you guess that comes with being old. You met him by asking trollian to set you up with someone a random, and at first you couldn't believe that someone as old as Harkas was wandering around on trollian. But he seemed nice, although at the time you couldn't tell if he was being polite by nature or by expectation.

   
[PF]: So why aren't you at work today, huh?

[HG]: Oh today is my day off

[PF]: II diidn't know they gave days off!

[HG]: oh yes I work with two others in my profession and they have given me today to rest after my hard work

[PF]: Ooooh, iis that a brag II hear ;D

[HG]: of course not why woud you think that

\-- pisceneFreedom [PF] snorts in amusment --

[PF]: Lol

[HG]: So I heard that you have been staying with your moirail for the past couple of weeks

[HG]: is that true

[HG]: is everything alright

[PF]: Yeah, everyfiin's cool. II was hiit by liightniing, so Corii was lettiing me stay iin her hiive to make shore II had completely recovered. But II've come to a biit of a problem, 'cause she wants me to stay wiith her, permanently, but she knows II can knot. And II care aboat her an' all, she's just so shellfish sometimes. She knows II need to get back to Fiishdad, but she's guiilt triipiing me, and II need to leave, but II feel bad aboat iit.

[HG]: Have you considered just leaving

[HG]: maybe leaving a note

[HG]: a good moirail would understand

[PF]: A good moiiraiil wouldn't put me iin this siituatiion! And a good moiiraiil wouldn't just walk out on someone who had proviided for them for two weeks.

[HG]: Is she home right now

[PF]: No, II told you, she's out

[HG]: So go and see your lusus

[HG]: go and visit him

[HG]: let him know you are safe

[HG]: and come back before she does

[PF]: Yeah, but what iif she gets back before II do?

[HG]: Gaiius

[HG]: if you live your life in fear of what others with think or do

[HG]: you will never be free

[HG]: no matter how high you fly

[HG]: or how far you run

[HG]: you must make your own decisions

[HG]: or risk getting burried in other people's opinions

[PF]: wow, okay. That's--wow...alriight. II guess ii'll go then.

[HG]: That is the spirit

[PF]: alriight, II have to go then

[HG]: yes yes go

[HG]: i will speak with you later

[PF]: okay, sea ya!! }( 0 u 0 ){

\-- pisceneFreedom [PF] ceased trolling herasGrin [HG] --

  
As you rush from the hive you take back what you said about not liking conversations with Harkas. Even though he was old, he had a lot of wisdom; and although you would never go to him for a medical grade fang cleaning, he was pretty cool. You relish the feel of the cool night air rushing over your skin as you race towards the shore. Fishdad was going to be so happy to see you, and you couldn't wait to see him again. You pass a cliff-side tealblood's hive and plow down the hillside, splashing into the surf with gasp. The water was colder than you remember; the showers you've been taking for the past couple of weeks had been a comfortable cool as opposed to the icy saline of the ocean. You dive beneath the glacial surf and revel in the feeling of submersion. It's amazing how good it feels to swim again, and you wonder how managed to abstain from this most pleasing activty for so long. You're so invigorated by your happiness and the feeling of flying through the water as if gravity wasn't a thing. You arrive at your hive in record time; a smile takes over your face at the sight of the familiar glowing cave. You swim in and set foot on the cave floor for the first time in nights upon nights and you take a fleeting moment to enjoy the cool, smooth stone beneath your paws. You venture farther in and look around for Fishdad.

"Fishdad! I'm home! I'm okay!" He doesn't come swishing out from his usual hiding place. You travel farther into your cave and down into the ravine. Down here there's not much light, and your biofluorescent freckles provide an almost obnoxious amount of illumnation as you descend into the huge cavity. 

"Fishdad! Hey, c'mon out! This isn't funny." You continue to decend until you come to your respiteblock, which is just another fissure in the cavern walls. You figure Fishdad is probably just out hunting or something and will be back later. You pull your palmhusk from your sylladex and check to see if anyone has pestered you. Sure enough, the one trolltag you didn't want to see is blinking yellow and urgent accompanied by a seemingly giant red three next to an angry emoticon.

\-- silentChaos [SC] started trolling pisceneFreedom [PF] --

[SC]: YOU 4RE GONE

[SC]: WHY 4RE YOU GONE

[SC]: WHERE DID YOU GO? WHY WOULD YOU LE4VE?

[PF]: Corii, just calm down. II left to go home. II was planniing on beiing back before you got home, but II took longer than expected. II'll be back soon, II just needed to sea Fiishdad.

[SC]: OH, OK4Y THEN. I GUE22, 2O LONG 42 YOU'RE COMING B4CK

[PF]: That was the plan

[SC]: W4ITW4ITW4IT, 4RE YOU P4CKING THING2? 4RE YOU GONN4 ST4Y FOUR GOOD?

[PF]: That was not the plan, no...

[SC]: WHY NOT? WHY WON'T YOU ST4Y WITH ME?

[PF]: Because II can-knot just stay wiith you, Corii. II have a hiive to keep up wiith, a guardiian to feed, that kiind of thiing. II miight knot be a priince, but II do have thiings to do, you know. II have to be here, iin the sea, iin order to manage my aft-faiirs.

[SC]: 4FT-F4IR2? TH4T ONE'2 4 STRETCH FOR YOU, FISHKID. YOU THINK TH4T JUST 6EC4USE YOUR 6LOOD RUN2 4 LITTLE COOLER TH4N MINE TH4T YOU C4N JU2T 2UDDENLY BE 6USY WITH "4FF4IR2" TH4T YOU DON'T H4PPEN TO N4ME, YOU JU2T A22UME TH4T I 4M TWO DULL TO UNDER2T4ND. I 4M 2O TIRED OF W4TCHING YOU LOOK DOWN ON ME. I 4M OLDER TH4N YOU, 4ND I 4M YOUR MOIR4IL, 4ND I DE2ERVE 4 BIT OF RE2PECT!

[PF]: You know, you miight bee my moiiraiil, but you are a reely crappy excuse for one, you know? You're shellfiish and possessiive and you thiing you can just keep me to yourself. And you say that II'm free to do whatever, but II'm knot, reely, II h-aft to check wiith you fiirst and II can't go out iif you don't approve. II'm your shiiniing liittle jewel, and you have put me on a shell-f and II am siittiing there, on the outsiide, watchiing you parade me around liike II'm some kiind of toy. You don't love me, you just liike the way II make you look.

[SC]: DON'T YOU D4RE TRY 4ND TELL ME HOW I FEEL! HOW WOULD YOU KNOW HOW I FEEL 46OUT YOU? IF I W42 JU2T KEEPING YOU 4ROUND FOUR LOOK2, I WOULD H4VE DUMPED YOUR 422 2WEEP2 4GO!

[PF]: Yeah, whale, iincase you diidn't notiice, we haven't been spendiing much tiime together lately. And iit's knot for tryiing, eiither; we just haven't wanted to bee together. 

[SC]: ...

[PF]: Liist-en. II am goiing to stay here for the day, and in the eveniing II wiill come back and we wiill sort thiis out, okay? We wiill sort thiis out to-moor-row, alriight?

[SC]: YE4H, OK4Y. I GUE22 I'LL SEE YOU TOMORROW THEN

[PF]: Sea ya

\-- silentChaos [SC] ceased trolling pisceneFreedom [PF] --

  
You sigh. You figure it had to happen at some point; it's been a few sweeps coming, so now's a good a time as any. You turn to exit your respiteblock and something falls past the cave opening trailing a stream of purple behind it. At first your mind flips shit because what if it's Fishdad? but then you remember and go plowing over the edge to catch whatever it was that was currently bleeding all over the floor of the ravine. When you finally reach the bottom you find that it's a troll, not somebody's poor custodian. It's a girl, you think, and she's covered in scars and open wounds that look like she's been thrown around on a coral reef or something. You pick her up and drag her back to your respiteblock.

"Hey, can you talk? Can you hear me? What's your name?" She groans and smacks her lips once or twice before answering. She doesn't open her eyes.

"Marona. Marona Sextan."

"Okay Marona. You're safe here, don't worry. I'm going to patch you up." Suddenly she grabs you by the shirt you just happen to be wearing (merely because Xacori doesn't like you walking around shirtless) and stares panicked into your eyes.

"I'm not safe. I'm not safe anywhere, He'll find me; he's gonna find me, kid. I ain't safe here, I ain't safe nowheres. He--gods, kid, he killed some kid's poor fishdad trying to get to me. Gods, kid, that poor, stupid fish, trying to protect me. I wasn't even his charge, kid, aw, god, that poor fish. Some poor tyrian kid's fishdad just got slaughtered for no goddamn reason, and it's all my fault. It's all my fault, kid, and I ain't safe nowheres." She trails off in incoherent sputters, but you don't really catch anything past "killed" and "tyrian kid's fishdad". You slump backward onto your rump and stare at the wall. _Fishdad is dead._ It's all you can think, over and over; that one statement becoming a constant string in your now plank thinkpan. You don't even care if the fishergirl next to you bleeds out and dies right there on your respiteblock floor. Your guardian is dead. _Fishdad is dead, and there's nothing you can do._


End file.
